They were going to figure it out. They were going to figure it out, because neither of them had other options, particularly not Cash. He'd shut off his other options by confessing in Ford. Maybe, Cash thought, he'd decided that he'd been running away for too long.

A shadow of a smile crossed Cash's face. "Oh," he said, "I've been sleeping loads." Too much, maybe. But it wasn't like it had been before the dementor, when he'd been sleeping in stints and waking up screaming. Instead, it was as if Cash had to drag himself out of his bed, because it was much more appealing to stay inside it than it was to leave.